


Though Nothing Else Remains

by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, First Time, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_the_castle_77/pseuds/Queen%20of%20the%20Castle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has ended, but Harry and Remus both find that they're still fighting losing battles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though Nothing Else Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for paranoidsistah for the hp_springsmut 2007 fic exchange. Written pre-DH, so goes AU from HBP.

"I am, of course, assuming that you actually want to graduate alongside the rest of your class. You do want to be an Auror, don't you, Harry?"

Considering the course Harry's life had taken thus far, he really shouldn't have been surprised to end up in Rufus Scrimgeour's office being informed that he had yet another huge choice to make. Or rather, that another huge choice was being made for him.  
Just once, Harry would like to make a life-altering decision all on his own. Hell, he'd be happy to pick out his own curtains, really. Or what he ate for lunch. Or, well, how long he took between inhales and exhales, to be perfectly honest.

But Ginny had that sort of thing well in hand (with the exception of the last thing... most of the time), and considering how things had been going over the past few weeks, he would no more dare to question his lack of input into anything to do with their relationship than he would attempt to outwardly contradict Scrimgeour these days.

He and Ginny hadn't exactly been stable lately, and although it had taken a while, Harry had begun to make a comprehensive “Things To Be Avoided” list of the topics that would elevate the problem. In an attempt to maintain his sanity, Harry therefore made some effort to only mention those things he thought were safe subjects that didn’t appear on the forbidden list.

He didn't enjoy fighting with his girlfriend, after all.

The last thing Harry needed when he arrived home moments after the last rays of sun had disappeared from sight that evening was to have Ginny yelling at him yet again. He didn't even have to open his mouth this time.

"Harry, you said you'd be home on time tonight!" she cried as he walked through the door. By the worried tone of voice, Harry had half expected her to launch herself at him. He wasn't all that surprised, though, when instead she just put her hands on her hips and stared expectantly at him.

Harry merely shrugged noncommittally. "I, er, got held up," he muttered.

He could tell by the way the colouring of her hair seemed to bleed onto her face that that had been exactly the wrong thing for Harry to say. He should have suspected as much, really. Everything was the 'wrong' thing when Ginny was in a bad mood. Harry seemed to put her into a bad mood without realising he was doing it, these days. It might have been his very existence that put that scowl on her face, for all he knew.

Harry just didn’t _get_ girls. He supposed that that must have made him a terrible boyfriend. It was the only explanation he could think of for the fact that he and Ginny completely _failed_ to be on the same wavelength all of the time, recently. He somehow doubted that he wasn’t at least partly to blame, after all.

"There's a curfew!” Ginny insisted, sounding legitimately worried. “You're meant to be setting an example, for Merlin's sake! The Ministry's hardly going to let you in if you're not following their rules."

Funny, that had been precisely what Scrimgeour had reminded him as Harry was leaving that afternoon. This was after he'd been escorted almost forcefully to the Minister of Magic's office – as was their custom, since Scrimgeour didn't seem to trust Harry to answer a simple request to appear there under his own steam – once his entrance examinations for the Auror Squad had finally concluded. Harry had been unimpressed by the argument then as well.

"I've already qualified to become an Auror just this afternoon," Harry countered. Ginny looked nonplussed, and Harry sighed. If they were going to have this out, he might as well get some of his own issues out in the open. "And I can take care of myself. You know that, and so does everyone else. Just because someone might see me outside for five whole minutes after the sun goes down doesn't mean they're all going to up and –"

"You think it's about being able to take care of yourself? Bill could take care of himself, couldn't he, but that didn't stop Greyback from ripping into him. And it certainly didn't stop those other werewolves from…"

Her words drifted off into a pained sob. Harry's heart dipped a little further into his chest, as if hiding from what was certain to soon become a very teary Ginny. He'd never been good at dealing with girls at all, but he was particularly useless when they were upset. It was one of the many reasons this relationship wasn't working as well as it should. Ginny seemed to be perpetually upset in some way, whether she was crying or yelling.

Even though he wasn't great at coping with hormonal females, however, he usually at least made an effort. He imagined that was the only reason they had stayed together this long.

But this was the third time in the past two weeks that Ginny had mentioned Bill's death. He was certain it wasn’t a deliberate attempt to make Harry feel guilty – he knew that Ginny would never do that – but it just didn’t _feel_ that way, and he'd had enough of it. The werewolf hype was obviously getting to her, Harry decided. But then, how could it not be? Curfews, horror stories and the whispers of new, harsher laws were reported in the paper every time Harry looked. The atmosphere in the wizarding world was getting tense.

It might have just been the terrible day he'd had, but Harry had a vaguely foreboding feeling that everything was about to get worse.

"And what on earth possessed you to walk home rather than Apparating like any normal wizard, anyway?" she demanded.

Ah, Harry thought. He’d been wondering when she might start noticing that. Obviously Ginny had yet to attempt to Apparate in or out herself, or she would have known the answer already. She’d find herself rudely awakened soon enough, he supposed. He was hardly going to bring up the anti-Apparition barriers the Ministry had insisted upon installing around his property as a safety precaution unless she mentioned it first, though. Harry preferred to delay their arguments as long as possible, especially when he was actually pretty certain that he wasn't at fault, because those were the arguments that made him the angriest.

Personally, Harry himself had been frustrated enough for both of them when he'd found out about the Ministry's initiative. He'd attempted to talk them out of it, to no avail. The Minister of Magic had better things to do than even pretend to listen to him, apparently, famous Harry Potter or not. Still, Harry thought he was more likely to be attacked as he walked the distances between the Ministry, the Muggle Underground and his house than have someone Apparate into his living room with a wand drawn and curses firing.

But then, perhaps that was the point, come to think of it.

When Harry had done the Ministry’s dirty work and rid the world of Voldemort, he should have been elated that he was finally free. However, there was a catch; he was just as tightly chained in by the Ministry’s watchful eyes as ever, perhaps even more so. The Ministry didn’t like to admit it, of course, but they were afraid of him, and so they tried to control and survey every second of his day.

Harry just wished there was something he could actually _do_ about it.

Just like he'd had to do in order to get the Ministry off his back after he'd gotten rid of the Dark Lord, Harry was about to have to jump through the Scrimgeour's hoops once more. After all, an order had been given to him by the Minister himself. Put simply, one did not defy the Minister in the current political environment. This was especially the case when the Minister already didn't particularly like the person in question.

Harry remembered a time when Scrimgeour had called him Dumbledore's man. That was a laughable claim. He might have been just that during the war, and even Dumbledore's death had not swayed him an inch in that respect. However, ever since then he'd been beginning to feel more and more like he was snugly tucked away in Scrimgeour's pocket, right where the Minister had wanted him all along. It mattered little that Harry was there only as an unwilling hostage. Public image was the name of the present game, and Harry hadn't yet learned the rules. He somehow doubted he ever would be allowed to.

Harry hated his job already, he decided, and he hadn't even actually started it yet.

Harry had sat by without open objection that very morning as he'd witnessed his future co-workers making an innocent woman scream herself hoarse. There had been nothing he could do but avert his eyes and pray along with the victim herself that it might be a quick death.

Unfortunately, werewolves were particularly hard to kill. It had taken a while for her to give in, though Harry was sure she would have _liked_ to have done so earlier. Harry would have finished it himself, had he been able to push the others out of the way and end her misery without having them turn on him instead.

As the Minister had pointed out later that day, it was a question of whether he wanted to become an Auror or not. He'd almost failed that last portion of his training schedule. Moreover, he almost wished he had.

At least then he might have been able to meet Ginny's eyes across the table as she placed his dinner down in front of him a little harder than was probably necessary and set herself down to her own meal, the scrape of her knife against the plate seeming incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room.

Then again, that might be a lost cause. He hadn't been able to meet her eyes, at least not without antagonism, in weeks.

He would, however, be just as happy to be able to meet his own eyes in the mirror, though he didn't much fancy the thought of the haunted look he might see there.

* * * * *

Though the sun had set, it was still half an hour to moonrise. Even so, the streets were already deserted. It should have made Remus feel secure in his anonymity as he paced down the street to a nearby Apparition point. Instead, it only seemed to make the feeling of being watched seem more pronounced. What sounded like footsteps shadowing his own further back in the street also seemed impossibly loud, considering that Remus couldn't see from whom they were originating. He would have suspected that the person tailing him was hidden beneath an Invisibility Cloak or a Disillusionment Charm, but he was sure that such a shield would have made them cocky enough to come closer to him, and then he would have been able to smell their approach, downwind or not.

With only half an hour until the change, Remus trusted his senses not to lead him astray. That meant that there was certainly someone out on the street with him, and Remus didn’t think that it could be anyone good. Even the Muggles seemed to have realised that it was best to stay inside on the full moon (for strange, sometimes unexplainable things seemed to happen on the night of lunacy, after all, and they seemed to think it best to just wash their hands of it all).

That meant that the sooner Remus could sneak away to a part of the neighbourhood where he could safely Apparate, the better. He didn't want to be caught out now, of all times.

If it hadn't been such a short time until the full moon made its grand entrance, Remus might actually have been tempted to duck down an alleyway in order to see whether his stalker was foolish enough to follow him. He could have set a trap and discovered who it was that found a poorly-dressed and aging man so interesting, and why. The war had proven how eager Remus was to use his wand when necessary, after all. But Remus knew that he would never chance being caught out in the open when the change was about to come upon him. He would be a danger to the whole neighbourhood, for one. Even for the person following him in particular, coming up against an untamed werewolf was a much too heavy punishment for following the wrong person down the street.

He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Then again, his worst enemy was a werewolf himself, and he'd died over a year ago, so there was very little chance of that ever happening.

Remus eventually did turn down an alley, though he did not wait longer than the moment it took to make certain no unsuspecting Muggles – or witches and wizards, for that matter – could witness him disappearing seemingly into thin air. Then he turned on his heel and Disapparated with a popping sound, reappearing in the thick of a small woods far north of where he'd been moments before.

He still had nearly a mile to travel, with only twenty minutes to do it in. It was rather a pain having to Apparate so far away from his eventual destination, but Remus considered it necessary. Though he imagined that anyone couldn’t even cover the sounds of their own advance down a street was unlikely to be magically capable of geographically tracking his magical signature through Apparition, he knew he couldn't be too careful. There might have been others following him who weren't so lackadaisical in trailing him, after all.

There were too many lives at stake on these nights, and the last thing his pack needed was to be located by the Ministry, or even freelance bounty hunters. He'd heard rumours of them showing up wherever the werewolves did. The wizarding world was scared enough to pay through the nose for anyone brave enough to attempt to exterminate the threat.

Though it was partly with good reason, Remus couldn't deny that a lot of people were taking their fear a few steps too far. They'd all forgotten that the people they were fighting against were human beings for all but one night in every month.

Then again, it hadn't been so very long ago that witches and wizards had been at war with each other, so perhaps the human aspect wasn’t so troublesome after all. The wizarding world as a majority was currently frightened. Frightened people weren’t always particularly logical that way.

When Fenrir had been given the Dementor's Kiss once Voldemort had been defeated, it hadn't been just his followers he'd left behind to threaten the general populace with his ideals. He'd also left behind a legacy of fear just waiting to be built upon.

Remus worried that it would only be a matter of time before they had another full-blown war on their hands. There was little he could do to stop it.

Worse still, he wasn’t even sure whether he’d be on the right side of it.

* * * * *

Harry eyed the meal in front of him suspiciously. It wasn't that he thought that Ginny would ever do anything to physically hurt him, let alone poison him. It was more a general sort of paranoia. He didn't feel that he could trust anything these days, and food was a particular sore point.

He felt justified in his suspicions, really. It wasn't paranoia if someone was actually out to get him. And, truthfully, there were actually quite a lot of people who were out to get Harry Potter.

It had only been a few days ago that he'd been subjected to one of the last pieces of assessment required for him to qualify as an Auror. Though he'd never been particularly good at Potions within his own right, nor liked the class in the slightest, Harry could honestly claim that at least in Snape's class he had never had to brew an antidote for a poison which he was already under the influence of. Snape would have got a thrill out of the Ministry's training, Harry decided, had he stayed alive long enough after the war to see it being inflicted on Harry.

Still, food really hadn’t looked the same since. Harry definitely refused to eat anything that was made within the walls of the Ministry itself.

Harry thought he could, for once in his life, empathise with Mad-Eye Moody. He wondered if it might have been the Aurors rather than the Death Eaters that drove the man to near madness. Who needed to be paranoid about enemy attacks when they came so freely from supposedly friendly quarters?

Harry felt he might already be well on his way to Mad-Eye’s level of madness himself. He would be especially so if he had to sit there with Ginny staring reproachfully at him much longer.

She seemed to take everything as a personal affront. Ginny didn't truly understand the workings of the Ministry since the war, of course, so Harry could hardly explain that very little of what he was going through at the moment was her fault.

He wished he could, if only to lessen the inordinate amount of fighting he was forced to participate in. Harry couldn't even tell Ginny that he loved her anymore without having it backfire in his face.

He still did love her. He could admit that to himself, even if Ginny refused to listen when he said it out loud. It was just getting more difficult by the day not to have his anger with her almost entirely overwhelm those other feelings.

These days, Harry's heart rarely beat any faster when he was in the room with her unless it was for decidedly unromantic reasons. He could have been with anyone when they were having sex – and it was only 'having sex' and nothing more lately – for all the emotion that went into it.

Harry looked away from Ginny's face finally, more than a little ashamed of his thoughts. As if to make up for them by proving his trust in her, Harry shovelled down several mouthfuls of his dinner. Ginny didn't look any more impressed than she had just moments before, and Harry felt vaguely sick with the thought that he'd allowed himself to be pressed into eating something that he hadn't checked out first yet again. It hardly mattered that he was almost entirely certain that there had been nothing wrong with those beans, even if they did look a little pale and limp. It was the principle of the thing.

When he pushed the remainder of his food away and stood, Ginny glowered at him.

"I put a lot of time and effort into making that meal for you," she said quietly.

Harry's head ached at the complaint despite the fact that she stated it in a normal tone of voice this time.

"Well next time, don't," he replied shortly, walking away from the table without looking at her.

As he fell onto the bed in the next room and looked out the window at the full moon, just recently risen into sight, he thought of curfews and werewolves and, more specifically, Remus Lupin. The knowledge that someone out there was undoubtedly having a worse day than he was both saddened and comforted him.

* * * * *

He was surrounded by intermingling cries and howls as the first traces of the pale moonlight caught him and his companions in its beams. All around him, people fell to their knees and called out their pain, and answered the others' cries almost reassuringly even as they themselves ached. For all the agony, it was over in less than a minute. For a while the dark enclosure was quiet but for the small noises of animals exploring.

He stretched his head down to the ground and sniffed at it, pawing at it curiously. This was not right, something in his brain told him. The ground was harder than packed dirt, and did not scrape away under his claws like he knew the earth should. The others seemed equally confused, sniffing at each other as if to confirm that something in their world was as it should be.

He could smell the others, and he witnessed their slight deference to him. He'd had to growl at one of the younger ones who stared at him too long, though, for the young wolf seemed to think himself more important than he was in the scheme of things.

After his senses had confirmed that – while all was not as it perhaps should be – he was surrounded by pack, which was the most important thing, the wolf that had not long before been a man named Remus Lupin lifted his head and bayed loudly at the small hole through which the moonlight shone down at them.

The rest of his pack, his family, howled along with him in a show of understanding and unity.

* * * * *

"Come here," Harry said a few minutes after Ginny had entered the room. She hadn't spared a glance at him the whole time, instead throwing things almost angrily around as if she was looking for something, but seeming to have no particular purpose in doing so, other than possibly making her ire known.

As if she had to. There wasn't a moment that passed by when Harry was in Ginny's presence lately that he wasn’t _well aware_ that she was upset with him. What he had a little more difficulty figuring out, at least sometimes, was _why_.

Ginny shot him a dirty look and continued whatever it was that she was doing.

"Ginny, please," Harry persisted.

Reluctantly, Ginny allowed herself to be lured over to the bed. Harry reached out and took her hand, drawing her down to him.

"I'm sorry," he said. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

Where once Ginny might have sighed forbearingly and melted into his arms, she rolled her eyes at Harry and remained completely unyielding in his arms until he was forced to let go of her.

"I'm sorry it has to be like this," he whispered at her retreating back. She paused for a moment, so Harry was fairly certain she'd heard him, but she made no move to respond. She disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

Harry sighed and rose from the bed. By the time Ginny emerged once more he'd located a small trunk and flicked his wand at his wardrobe. Though the clothing and other miscellaneous items didn't exactly pack themselves neatly, Harry wasn't all that concerned about appearances. He just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, stopping dead in her tracks.

"What do you think?" Harry responded calmly.

"You can't possibly be thinking of going to stay with him, tonight of all nights."

Harry smiled grimly. "At least with him it's only one night in every twenty-eight that there's a chance of him attempting to tear me limb from limb. With you, I can feel you mentally taking chunks out of me every time I open my mouth. I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you hate spending time with me, really, and I'm sorry for a lot of other things besides. I can't keep this up, though."

Ginny didn't seem all that surprised to hear him say he was leaving, and Harry couldn’t quite tell whether she was upset. Harry himself didn't feel particularly sad, though that fact in itself made his chest feel strangely tight. He sort of hoped that later he’d regret it more, because there had been a time when they’d been happy together. At that moment, though, his lack of emotion was really far more upsetting than the actual fact of what he was doing.

He would miss her, and their house. He’d miss how they used to be with each other. However, it wasn’t enough to live on memories. They’d both been clinging to this relationship that made them both so unhappy for far too long, waiting for things to get better when they just never would.

He sighed and climbed on his broom, ignoring the sound of distant howls.

* * * * *

Remus scraped himself off the floor of the cave that the members of his small pack shut themselves up in every full moon. He slipped out from underneath one of the women, who must have collapsed on top of him in pain and exhaustion at some point during the dawn change, and surveyed the scene.

Once he'd ascertained that all was well and none of his pack had been injured more than was usual during the night, Remus Flooed back into the relative comfort and security of his house.

The last thing he expected upon his arrival at the falling-apart cottage was to find a rumpled-looking Harry Potter suddenly springing bolt upright from Remus’s beaten old couch, blinking owlishly at him, his wand half-extended. Remus had obviously woken the young man. Though why he had been lying there to be woken was a mystery, since Remus hadn't seen Harry in months. Not since he'd ordered Tonks out of the house. The place had been so quiet in those few days afterward, and it had made sense to fill it with a young man barely out of his teenage years. Then again, Harry hadn't been all that loud, when it came down to it. Remus had been quite worried that there had to have been something wrong, to make him so hushed. His sudden appearance that morning would seem to confirm that.

"Harry?"

"Professor. Sorry, I mean Remus," Harry gave him a mirthless little half-smile as he lowered his wand. "Sorry, old habits."

"That's quite all right," Remus assured him. "No need for the multiple apologies." He looked at the young man with patient eyes, waiting for him to explain himself.

"I'm sorry for intruding," Harry said. Remus raised his eyebrow at the fact that he was apologising yet again, and Harry hurried on. "But you said that if I ever needed a place, like I did last time, the door would still be open."

Remus nodded. "That I did. You aren't intruding at all. I'm just wondering what brought you here this time. Though you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, of course."

Remus always thought it best to leave a man's options open rather than backing him into a corner. He supposed it was a carryover from his wolf nature. It applied to humans just as well, though. He couldn't ever forget what had happened to Sirius when his means of escape had been cut off one by one. That kind of captivity could drive a man mad.

That was one of the reasons they’d stayed by each other after the war had come to its abrupt conclusion, even though they’d never been all that close up until then.

Harry looked at him appraisingly. "Well, that's a long story, isn't it? I'm betting you're too tired to hear it after last night. Maybe in a few hours, yeah?"

Remus yawned, as if to prove Harry's point, though he didn't move a muscle.

"It's not the kind of tired that sleep can heal," he explained gently, and gave Harry a look that prodded him to continue.

Harry sighed. "Right. Okay. It's just that it's a little awkward for me to say."

Well, that could only mean one thing. "Ginny?"

Harry nodded dejectedly. "What else?" he sighed. "It's been coming for a while now. I got home and told her that my Auror training was officially over as of yesterday –"

"Congratulations, Harry!" Remus exclaimed.

Harry frowned and gestured at Remus in what looked like exasperation. "See, now, that's what I thought _she_ would say. But all she did after hearing the news was have a go at me for coming home a few minutes after the sun went down. I'd missed the curfew, you know, though not by long enough to put me in danger. The moon wasn't even out yet! And then when I told her that, and that I could take care of myself, she… well, she brought up a few bad memories."

"Like?" Remus pressed, interested despite himself.

Harry shrugged. "Bill, of course. Ever since he was killed, she's been so mad about this werewolf business. She's as bad as the papers sometimes, telling me that if werewolves could murder her brother for not joining their side, they must all be the monsters the Ministry claims they are. I've tried reminding her that you're a werewolf, so she should bloody well watch her words, but that just makes it worse, for some reason. Anyway, it spiralled a little out of control tonight. It always does, these days.

"I love her. I really do. But I don't _like_ her all that much anymore. It's just… I know she doesn't do it on purpose, but she makes me feel like I'm really useless sometimes. That isn't what a relationship should be like. Or, at least, I hope not."

Remus shook his head. "No, it's not. For all that my relationship with Tonks ended badly, she always reminded me of the good things in my life, even without trying."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, exactly. That's what I want in a partner. And for all that I love Ginny… well, here I am. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, single once more. If last night wasn't the full moon, I'd be certain that some reporter would have been lurking outside the house trying to get a whiff of the latest in the Potter-Weasley saga and saw me taking off, bags packed and all. _That_ news would’ve been slathered all over the papers, on any other day. They always eat that sort of rubbish up."

But it had been the full moon last night, and Harry's words reminded Remus that there had likely been activities far more worthy of front-page news going on. Though not by his pack, he was fairly certain, even though he could never remember much of the actual night once he’d changed back. He and a few other trusted members of the pack always secured the cave adequately before the change could take place.

"Of course," Harry continued, "she didn't seem too pleased that I was running here, of all places. I don't think Ginny trusts you much."

"Nor should you," Remus said, "at least not on the night of the full moon."

Harry's look was dark, reflecting exactly what he thought about that idea.

"If I want to be safe from you in your werewolf form, there's no place safer than this. I know that you would never transform anywhere near home."

Harry was certainly right about that. Remus tried to keep pack business as far away from his house as he could. There were times when he just wanted a moment's peace, a break from what he was and what his life had become, and he needed somewhere that hadn't been influenced by his darker side to spend that time. Since that run-down cottage was all Remus owned, he made certain to keep it as separate from werewolf-related things as he could. In fact, the place where he and the others transformed was practically on the other side of Britain, which made morning-after Apparations a pain (literally).

"Be that as it may," Remus conceded, "it wouldn't be too hard for other werewolves to follow me back here. If they had any idea you might be here on the full moon, or at all…"

Harry glowered. "I'll tell you what I told Ginny: I can take care of myself. Besides, I think my house is less safe than yours, if we're thinking about places I'm expected to be on the full moon. I'm more likely to be there than here. Or I was, until Ginny somehow laid claim on the place. It's more hers than mine now, even though I paid for it. Anyway, I don't think I'll be spending any more moons, full or otherwise, under that roof."

Remus conceded the point once more, but silently this time. There were only so many times one could fold before everything one said failed to make an impact. Since this wasn't the first time Harry had argued him into a corner, Remus decided he might be getting perilously near to that point.

To think, he was supposed to be the older and wiser of them. Certainly, no stranger looking in on their strange little friendship would be able to tell as much.

The fact of the matter was that Harry was more than capable of taking care of himself. The whole wizarding world knew it, and some of them were even afraid of him for that very reason.

They made a good pair, at least. Harry had become both more feared and revered since defeating Voldemort, because of the power the wizarding world speculated that he must have shown in order to defeat him (for Harry never really gave the whole story, and most of it had been altered by rumours to the point that no one was sure what had happened even on a general level anymore). And then there was Remus, who was certainly more accepted in public since he'd been notably numbered among the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had played such a key role in securing the triumph of the Light side of the wizarding world. Dumbledore's side, had he still been alive to see the end of it. The Ministry's side, even, though sometimes Remus thought that that might be debatable. But Remus was also much more feared now as well. Ever since the werewolf threat had escalated upon Fenrir's death, people had begun to cross to the other side of the road when he neared them, even as they also looked upon him as someone who had done something worthwhile.

It was a mixed message that society was sending, and not one that Remus liked. In truth, he'd have preferred to slink back into the anonymity he'd enjoyed in the years before he'd taught at Hogwarts and had his secrets revealed by Severus Snape. Very few people had ever heard of Remus Lupin, then, for better or worse.

Though Snape, of course, had paid for that crime, among his many others. He'd been one of the first victims, though the werewolves had since discovered that turning victims was a lot better battle plan than tearing them to pieces.

And they'd recently begun following Fenrir's practice even more to the tee, preying upon young children who wouldn't know any better than to adopt the same beliefs as the pack they were subsequently exiled to.

It made Remus physically sick to think about.

He'd once thought that most of the werewolves in the pack followed Fenrir's lead simply because they were afraid of him. Or perhaps they didn't know any better. But now that Fenrir was out of the picture and the pack had split into smaller but no less insulated and violent groups, Remus was forced to consider that it may have been because they shared his ideals after all.

If the Ministry was ever going to act to secure the werewolves' good will, now would be the last possible moment. Indeed, the time may have already passed. Remus wished they would at least make the effort anyway.

Instead, the Ministry was intent on further alienating the werewolves. He'd heard whispers about the possible introduction of new anti-werewolf laws. As if the current ones weren't bad enough, it sounded as if the new ones would make it legal to imprison individuals merely because they were in contact with other werewolves. That indicated gang mentality, according to the Ministry. The only reason Remus could see for a law like that to be enacted was if they meant to arrest all the werewolves, and attempt to rid Britain of their influence entirely.

But surely the Ministry couldn't be stupid enough to attempt something like that?

Then again…

"Remus?" Harry said, and the older man blinked and looked at him. "You were drifting off. I think you should get some sleep. It can't exactly do you any harm."

Remus nodded in surrender. "Perhaps sleep wouldn't be such a bad thing, after all," he admitted.

Harry gave him an encouraging smile. "Right. 'Course. I'll still be here when you wake up again."

For some reason, Remus found that to be quite a comforting thought.

* * * * *

Harry, though he had slept the night before, mustn't have caught up on all the sleep he had missed in those final weeks of his Auror training, when he was being thoroughly examined and spending all his 'spare' time studying. He woke for the second time in Remus's cottage when Remus himself stumbled tiredly out from his bedroom.

There were only three rooms in Remus's house. One was a multi-purpose room, where he was presently lounging, attempting to blink the sleep out of his eyes. The couch was up against the wall, and only a few feet in front of it was a small fold-up table with three chairs pulled up to it. Harry was fairly certain that there had once been a fourth chair, but it must have finally given up the fight for survival. Its wooden legs and back were probably fuelling the fire that was warming them even now.

In the corner of the room there was a fridge and an oven that looked as though it shouldn't be used unless the owner of the house wanted it the whole place to be demolished. If that owner was anyone but a wizard, that may well have been the case, since the house was probably structurally unsound. Luckily for Remus, magic could fix a lot of problems without costing money. Harry imagined Remus had concentrated his efforts more on making the place liveable rather than making it look good. That would have been a waste of perfectly good magic, unless one was a stuck-up git like Malfoy. And anyway, the run-down look suited Remus well, making the house feel as if it belonged to him, which was a welcoming sort of concept. Considering all that it held, the room wasn't very large at all. It was on the borderline between cramped and cosy, as was the rest of the house.

The adjacent room was, for all intents and purposes, a bedroom, though anyone who saw it probably wouldn't know it. It had, instead of a real bed, a roll out mattress on the floor, which nearly filled the room when it was extended for the night. Threadbare clothes were presumably buried somewhere within a tiny set of drawers beside the door that joined the bedroom to the bathroom, which was in itself almost too small to fit the simple loo and shower that had been squashed inside it. Harry had once claimed one of those drawers for his own belongings, though he doubted that would suffice if he was to be staying with Remus for more than a few days this time around.

All in all, the house was only just fit for human residence, even with magical assistance. But, then again, Remus Lupin was only just considered human under the Ministry’s laws, so it had been the only sort of place he could buy. The rest of the world would probably think it fitting. The very thought left Harry feeling outraged on Remus's behalf.

Harry would have liked to help Remus, financially or otherwise, but the older man had insisted that the Ministry would not look favourably on Harry for showing charity to a known werewolf in the present political upheaval. While Harry hated acknowledging it, he _did_ need the Ministry on his side. Once he was an Auror and had risen in the ranks, then he might have a chance of actually _using_ his association with the Ministry to do something to help those who really needed it, like the werewolves. Or, at least, he hoped so. Until that time, though, it felt like Rufus Scrimgeour and his lot owned Harry's soul. That wasn't going to change anytime in the foreseeable future, unfortunately.

"You know," Remus said once he'd made a cup of tea, "for all that I don't mind having you around – you're good company when you want to be," he added teasingly, "is it the best idea for you to be here right now? If the Minister found out that you were fraternising with me…"

Harry wasn't really surprised that their minds were focused on similar things. It seemed that that was all there was to think about these days. The Ministry of Magic was highest on everyone's agenda, especially the Ministry’s own. Harry's soul certainly wasn't the only one they'd gained possession of lately.

"I'll fraternise with whoever I want!" Harry declared. "The Minister doesn't run my life, whatever he might think. I don't care if he disapproves of you. I’m an adult, and I can make my own decisions."

They both knew this for a lie, or the very most a half-truth. However, it was only Harry that understood the real nature of what he had said. Remus merely snorted and said nothing more about it. Harry was grateful. Unlike Ginny, Remus knew when to stop. He could take one look at Harry and judge when it was a bad time to push certain things. With Ginny, any time had been a great time.

Harry frowned. He wished that he could stop thinking negative things about her. It hadn't all been bad, and they'd probably even remain friends, once they'd had some time to cool off. It was just that at that point, he was so tired of it all that he could hardly remember why they’d got back together after she'd finished school at all. Perhaps they just needed to not see each other and be at each other's throats for a while. He hoped so. He had few enough friends left in the world without losing her completely as well.

* * * * *

Remus didn't really understand what Harry had been doing for the Auror department in the first two months he'd stayed with him, but Harry had assured him he was 'already on an assignment'. Since Harry left the cottage only rarely, Remus had to take his word for it.

Remus had noticed Harry doing something, though, even if he didn't understand how it could possibly be relevant to his future job as an Auror. Even though Remus knew very well that Harry despised research of any kind – and he was sure that hadn't been one of the things the younger man had grown out of – he'd caught him raiding Remus's own pile of books several times. Remus often entered the main room only to find Harry curled up with a book on what Remus had lately come to consider Harry's couch. Remus had to admit that it wasn’t a sight he’d ever really associated with Harry Potter, who’d always been a bit too restless to voluntarily sit about reading books.

Since many of the books Remus owned were about werewolves, he couldn't imagine what had caught Harry's interest. He himself found most of them unutterably dry and useless. He'd only purchased them as research to be used in mounting a case to defend werewolf rights against the Ministry's possible new regime, unsuccessful though he knew that was likely to prove.

But Harry kept coming back for more, so Remus determined that either he was truly interested in werewolf mating habits (the main topic of at least three of the books Remus owned, all of which were filled with nothing but complete tripe), or he had nothing better to do.

Until Harry asked Remus about his pack, he'd firmly decided that Harry was simply bored out of his skull and looking for any available reprieve.

"Who do you stay with on the full moon?"

It was a loaded question. As well as he got along with Harry, he didn't particularly want to discuss anything to do with the full moon at home. But Harry's questioning eyes proved to be too much, and after avoiding the question neatly for two days, Remus caved in.

"My pack. There's about twenty of us."

"And they're all safe?" Harry prodded. "None of them are friendly with Greyback's little disciples, are they?"

"Not to my knowledge," Remus replied with a raised eyebrow. "And if they were, they would likely find themselves feeling better protected with their fellows rather than with me and mine. I wouldn't interfere if the pack found a traitor and decided to discipline them."

"Have any of them gone missing recently?" Harry blurted out.

Remus gazed curiously at Harry for a moment. "No. Harry, are you worried about me?"

Harry blushed just slightly, but his skin was fairer than Remus had seen it for a long time due to his lack of time spent outdoors, so the pink flush was obvious on his face.

"No," he denied. "Why would you even think that?"

But the wavering tone of his voice belied his words.

Remus knew that Sirius would have pushed, and maybe taunted Harry playfully. James would have likely done the same. Remus merely shot Harry a knowing look and let it be. He knew that any further prodding would see Harry lashing out at him, or perhaps withdrawing away.

If Sirius had lived a few more years, Remus thought that Harry might have grown tired of the fact that his godfather didn't understand him, and that he was far more juvenile than Harry himself despite the twenty years he had on his godson. Remus would never suggest such a thing aloud, though, and neither would Harry. It was, in some ways, better that Sirius had passed when he did. At least that way Harry – and even Remus, for he had grown a little weary of it as well – could remember him mostly in a fond way. Remus had loved his friend, certainly, but things had been difficult when Sirius had never been allowed to grow up.

Remus thought that he and Harry, though, were a much more compatible pair, even if that meant bottling things up until they became poisonous. They each just let each other be most of the time, and only spoke of the important things when it was necessary. Remus catered to all of Harry's small quirks, like the fact that Harry would never let Remus prepare the food, with only a little amount of dry amusement. And for the most part, Harry respected the fact that Remus didn't want to talk about certain things.

Remus knew that Harry kept important secrets from him, and he did the same. One day those secrets would probably come between them, but until that time he felt it safer to let them lie, much like he did Harry himself.

So when Harry asked him whether Remus would tell him about the place that he and his pack transformed on the full moon, Remus was automatically put on the defensive.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal," Harry muttered when Remus said he'd rather not. "Really, it's information you should be sharing. It's like Hermione mentioned once before… well, you know. If everyone knew to avoid the place on the full moon, no one would be likely to accidentally run across a great ruddy pack of werewolves, would they?"

"And if we spread it around, you don't think people would be more likely to run across us less _accidentally_?" Remus countered angrily. "Or have you somehow missed the fact that the whole wizarding world seems to be slowly rallying together to wipe werewolves out of existence?"

Harry flushed, and Remus somehow didn't think it was in anger.

"No," he murmured. "Of course I haven't missed it."

"Then you understand." It was phrased as a statement. Remus didn't expect Harry to continue arguing, but perhaps he should have. He was usually the one to back down in their arguments. Harry had a much hotter temper, when it came down to it.

"I don't understand why you can't tell _me_!" Harry said. "Right, okay, I get that it might be dangerous if everyone knew, but don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," Remus scoffed.

Harry looked at him with wide eyes. "No, you don't. You can't possibly. We've been living together for three months straight, plus a few weeks prior to that, and we've known each other for coming onto a whole decade, and we even fought side by side during the war. And still you don't know anything about me. And I'm starting to think I don't know anything about you either. It might have been annoying when Ginny demanded to know every single one of my secrets, but at least she cared."

Harry shook his head and paced dramatically out the front door. Remus imagined he would have simply stormed out of the room, but unless they were willing to start throwing up magical barriers and complicated locks all over the place, there really wasn't anywhere to hide in the small cottage.

"I care!" he shouted after Harry when he regathered himself. However, Harry was probably long gone, so Remus doubted he'd heard him.

Remus sighed and threw himself almost violently down on Harry's couch, unwillingly inhaling the smell of Harry's cologne. His eyes watered, but he put it down to the strong smell, and the fact that he was quite certain he was about to sneeze. The couch was old enough that it probably had dust settled all within it waiting to be expelled all over an unsuspected person, after all.

The sneeze never came, but Remus's chest felt a little strange as well, as if it was hard to breathe, and his throat constricted a little. He decided not to analyse it. He rested his head against the armrest, which grew strangely cold and wet-feeling after a while, and eventually fell asleep.

Harry hadn't returned to the house by the time he woke up a few hours later.

* * * * *

"I was meant to be officially instated into the Auror Squad a week ago."

Rufus Scrimgeour tsked in a manner that Harry might have described as friendly, had he not come to understand the man as well as he had over the past few years.

"Harry, Harry," the Minister began condescendingly, "you have yet to complete your final assignment. You can't become an Auror until you've completed the preparation work, of which that was most definitely a part. Actually," Scrimgeour said, his thick eyebrows drawing together almost in concern, "I must admit that I'm beginning to have doubts about you being Auror material. I would have thought a quarter of a year would have been long enough to complete one assignment for anyone who was actually qualified to be part of such an elite squad."

Harry fumed. He knew there was nothing he could say to sway Scrimgeour. He felt he had to try anyway.

"I don't think I can complete the task," he said frankly. "You wanted me to work covertly. You wanted it to seem as if I was doing nothing at all but taking a well-earned break. Even Remus Lupin believes that, and I'm living with him, in his presence almost twenty-four hours in every day. But nothing's going to get done that way. You'll just have to get someone else to do it."

Scrimgeour frowned and said something along the lines of, "I'm disappointed in you, Harry." Harry didn't really listen, though, because he was frankly sick of hearing it.

In a way, he was looking forward to this facade being over one way or another, already. But he wasn’t going to hurry it along.

He really wished he could just tell his future job to get stuffed, actually, because he was sick of being Scrimgeour's whore when he knew what was eventually going to come of it. Not that he could say as much out loud, unless he wanted to be locked in Azkaban right then and there. For that same reason, Harry couldn't really back out of his assignment completely, for all that he'd like to.

I'm screwed, Harry privately decided as he left Scrimgeour's office with yet more orders. He really wished he'd continued on the same track as he'd started the meeting and told the old man to shove them somewhere dark and cramped, consequences be damned.

* * * * *

To say that Remus was relieved when Harry showed up at his front door four days after he'd left was an understatement. Remus hadn’t been able to think of anywhere else that Harry would go to stay, so he’d been terribly worried. He'd been worried that a Death Eater supporter had caught Harry, or that Harry had had an accident on his broom (for he'd noticed it missing from its usual place near the front door), or perhaps that some of the werewolves who were terrorising the wizarding world at large had caught him and were holding him captive until the full moon two nights from then.

Even more, though, Remus had worried that Harry had simply decided he didn't want to live with him anymore.

"Where were you?" Remus asked quietly once he'd given Harry time to pour himself a cup of tea and slouch down on one of the chairs pulled up to the table as if he'd never left.

"I stayed at Ginny's," he replied nonchalantly. “Well, at _my_ place, I guess.”

The thought didn't please Remus at all.

"So are you getting back together with her?"

He tried to make the question seem unconcerned, but he was certain he failed miserably. Remus had grown used to having Harry living in his house. He would miss the company and the conversation and the occasional fake mockery when he did something foolish that wouldn't be caught if he was living alone. He would also miss the way Harry would always be using the bathroom exactly when Remus wanted it, and the way he couldn't even sit on his own couch because it belonged to someone else. He thought he might even miss the fact that Harry sometimes kept Remus awake a bit longer at night when he occasionally forgot to put up a silencing charm when he wanked. Remus, of course, didn't think too hard about that last consideration. Things didn't need to be any more awkward than they were already.

The conversation was certainly turning out to be particularly awkward, especially since Remus couldn't seem to stop his hands from fidgeting uncomfortably.

"No," Harry eventually replied, "we aren't. But it's my house, technically, and I needed a place to stay. And she didn't exactly try to kick me out."

That could mean a lot of things, Remus realised. His brain kept coming to the same conclusion, but he tried to push it out of his mind.

"You'll always be welcome here, even if we're fighting," he said instead.

Harry shrugged. "I think I already knew that, sort of. I just, you know, wanted a break, and I thought you might, too. But we're good again now, right?"

Remus shrugged. "You're back." That was said as if it answered everything, and Remus supposed it did. However incensed he might have felt at the time, he hadn't been truly angry with Harry at any point. They'd always been 'good' as far as he was concerned. Harry had been the one who’d had the problem, and the fact that Harry was back again would seem to indicate that Harry was past it.

"Yeah," Harry said after a moment of silently staring at Remus in contemplation. "I am."

Remus nodded and there was an awkward silence.

"Did you sleep with her?" he asked suddenly.

Harry looked shocked that he'd asked. "No! Why?"

Remus just shook his head. "Sorry. I have no idea why I asked that. Forget it."

But Harry's expression was turning sly even as Remus was speaking.

"Are you jealous?" he asked teasingly.

It felt like déjà vu from when he'd asked Harry if he was worried about him, but this time it was Remus's face that was burning. He wondered for a moment if a blush could literally burn a man and become permanent, for his face felt hot enough to make his flesh go molten.

"No!" he denied. "Of course not!"

But like Remus had realised Harry's lie, he could see that Harry knew the truth, and was working something out in his head even now.

"Don't be," Harry said after a moment. "This is my home, and no ex-girlfriend is dragging me away."

Remus felt strangely warm in a way that couldn't be attributed to all the blood that had rushed to his face.

* * * * *

From then on, Harry noticed that Remus acted strangely around him. Which meant that Remus must be very out of sorts indeed, since Harry accepted that he wasn't exactly the most perceptive person on the planet. Sometimes it felt as if they were tiptoeing around each other, while at other times Harry suspected that Remus was attempting to take more active steps to get to know him better in the aftermath of what Harry had said during their big blow-up.

It made Harry feel vaguely uncomfortable because he was never quite sure what to expect. He was sure that one day he would crack and demand that Remus tell him exactly what was happening.

He had his suspicions, of course, but again Harry had to admit he'd never been all that insightful, and he might be reading the signs incorrectly.

But whatever the cause, he was thoroughly sick of it by a month after when his acceptance ceremony into the Auror Squad should have been. He'd been living with Remus for four months, and most of his time was spent with the man. It was tiring to spend all that time being cautious and wondering constantly what Remus was thinking.

"Why don't you trust me still?" he asked late one night when Remus was seemingly trying to fix the toaster (or perhaps trying to transfigure it into something more useful, since neither of them ate much toast these days anyway).

Remus looked as if he'd have preferred to continue casting ostensibly random spells at the toaster to having that conversation with Harry. However, after a moment's deliberation, he straightened up and put his wand down precisely perpendicular to the table.

The calculated nature of the move made Harry want to bristle, but he told himself that he was imagining things and waited for Remus to talk.

It was a long wait, since Remus didn't seem to know what to say.

"I never told you why I broke up with Tonks," he said finally.

It hadn't been the sort of response Harry had expected.

"I never really asked. I thought you must have had a good reason, both for the break up and for being a bit quiet about it."

Remus nodded. "I did. The Ministry approached Tonks a while after I moved in with her and asked her to spy on me. They seemed to know that I was the leader of my pack, and thus was in a position to name other werewolves who might have done things that weren't precisely on the up and up. They wanted her to either get me to tell her the names and where those people could be found, or for her to find something the Ministry could arrest me for so they could take me in and ask some questions without there being a public outcry because I'm a big war hero. She didn't say no."

Remus looked Harry in the eye then, and the younger man felt the need to flinch away from his gaze for a moment. He didn't like having Remus look at him in such a calculating, almost accusatory, way.

"I know precisely what the Aurors tend to do to werewolves they take into custody, and I'll wager you do as well. I wasn't too pleased at the idea when I found out what Tonks was involved in."

Harry knew he had a guilty expression on his face. Of course, he knew exactly what Remus was talking about it. He'd been a part of it, through his omission to stop it from happening.

"How did you find out what she was up to?" Harry asked quietly.

Remus smiled bitterly. "Well, you know Tonks. She isn't all that stealthy when it comes down to it. She forgot to put up a silencing barrier when she was having a classified Floo conversation. She was gone the next morning. I told her I didn't want to see her again, and I haven't."

"I'm not even part of the Ministry yet. I don't think they want me to be, if the delay on my acceptance is anything to go by. You can't think –"

"Not really," Remus interrupted. "I'm sure you wouldn't do that to me. But it's made me wary, especially with werewolf-related information. Those laws are about to go through, and I can tell you now that I'm not going to stop meeting with my pack just because the Ministry says I shouldn't. It's a ridiculous rule, anyway. But that means I will be breaking the law, or close enough to it that the Ministry won't be able to see the dividing line. I don't particularly want to be caught at it."

Harry didn't want him to be caught at it, either, to tell the truth. Life was a funny thing sometimes. Harry didn't particularly like that kind of humour.

"You can trust me," Harry assured him. He almost prayed Remus would disregard that statement, since Harry didn't always feel so very trustworthy, but Remus was already nodding.

"I know. Just give me some time, and I'll find a way to prove to you that I do."

Harry sighed. There they were, a werewolf and a future Auror having a conversation about keeping secrets from the Ministry and trusting each other. It was entirely the wrong time in the wizarding world for this to be happening to him.

What a pair they made.

* * * * *

Remus didn't understand why Harry had been staring at him in that strange way of his all day until Harry rolled his eyes and asked, "When are you going to admit to yourself what's happening here?"

"What's happening?" Remus asked, a creases of confusion forming between his eyebrows.

Harry sighed and made strange hand gestures that seemed to indicate that Remus should know. Remus was proud that he'd understood the message, since he hadn't ever realised one could send such a message with just their hands. He wondered whether there was a gesture that translated as, "Message accepted." Would it be really strange if he said it aloud?

"Merlin, and here I thought I was the emotionally dense one. That's what Hermione always used to say, anyway, though Ron was always worse." Harry shook his head and pushed on to hide his discomfort. "Anyway, you're making everything hard and awkward, and it just doesn't have to be like that. If you just admit how you feel…"

"How do I feel?"

Harry stood up from his couch and approached Remus slowly, as if the older man was a wild animal that would rear up if frightened. Sadly, that wasn't all that far from the truth.

When Remus didn't run away (though he did press himself nervously against the door to his room, from which he'd just emerged), Harry reached out and grabbed Remus by the elbow, as if to both reassure him and hold him in place all at once.

"You feel strange, just like I do right now. Because when you look at me you feel something you don't understand. You compensate by making everything so awkward that I get all confused. There's really only one way to fix it."

Remus could almost feel Harry's breath on his face, and he wondered if they should be standing that close together. "How?" he croaked.

Harry didn't respond verbally, but rather leaned across the admitted small space dividing them.

Remus felt lips on his own and didn't realise what it meant for several seconds. All he knew was that it had been a long time since he'd been kissed, and it wasn't entirely bad, though it was a self-conscious press of lips, and they couldn't quite seem to meet each other's movements just right.

Then Harry broke away and Remus opened his eyes to see short messy hair and green eyes instead of outrageous colours everywhere. This wasn't Tonks – mostly safe, feminine-where-it-counts Tonks – that he was with now. He was reminded immediately that Harry was a man, and there was definitely something out of the ordinary about that.

"I'm straight," he blurted.

Harry shrugged. "So am I. Mostly, at least. But it's been nearly five months since I've had sex, and you've been sending odd signals, and I feel like I've been on a first date for months now. I think a first date that long deserves a kiss at the end of it, at the very least. And anyway, at least it's out there now. One way or the other, things have to get better now. I can't continue on with us avoiding the issues that matter anymore. I mean, I know that the reason Ginny and I didn’t work out was because we never _stopped_ going on about all of those issues, but I figure there’s got to be a decent mid-point."

Remus privately agreed, and he thought that as resolutions went, this one wasn't all that bad. Perhaps he wasn't as entirely straight as he'd thought, but it hardly mattered.

"And we're practically an old married couple already," Harry continued with a grin, "but we skipped the regular sex stage and went straight to the enforced chastity. I'd rather catch up on what we missed, if it's all the same to you."

Remus gave Harry an incredulous look. "There are so many reasons why we shouldn't."

"And I've thought of all of them, and they don't matter to me," Harry refuted. "I like you. That's what matters."

Remus merely shook his head, speechless for a moment. He then turned around to head back to his room, still feeling quite stunned.

"I'll think some more about it," he whispered. "No promises, though."

He closed the door and granted himself the illusion of privacy, despite the fact that true privacy was impossible in his house. Their house, he corrected himself, for it was as much Harry's house as his as long as Harry persistently refused to move into his own more luxurious home (unless, of course, Remus would agree to move with him and share the benefits of Harry's wealth, as Harry frequently reminded him was a possibility).

The thought of being with Harry that way was thrilling and terrifying at once. And, he admitted to himself, he'd considered it many times over the past few months, even though he never let himself actively contemplate it for long enough to really think too closely on it.

He had a feeling he'd be thinking about it a lot that night.

* * * * *

"Have you read the Prophet yet?" Harry asked, staring at Remus to gauge his reaction.

Remus nodded glumly. "Yes. I saw. It's official."

Harry bit his lip and looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

"The laws aren't as bad as the Ministry was talking about. It's only werewolf 'rallies' rather than any time spent together whatsoever that warrant an arrest. There's no way they can sentence you to Azkaban if you just keep up what you've been doing." Harry frowned. "At least, I don't think they can. But then, I still don't exactly know exactly what it is you do with the werewolves, do I?"

"But there will be a lot of others they can arrest," Remus argued, pointedly ignoring Harry's final point. "And when the number of werewolves who haven't been killed or arrested get so low that completely eradicating werewolves from Britain is within the Ministry's sights, they'll put out even stricter laws decreeing that simply _being_ a werewolf is an arrestable offence. Or maybe even punishable by death. There'll be no stopping them. The Ministry's out of control already, and it's only going to get worse."

Harry shrugged in a non-committal sort of way, but he imagined his face was guilty with knowledge.

Remus's eyes widened. "That is the plan, isn't it? Harry, you knew about this?"

"No! Er, that is, it's not really a plan. But as long as Scrimgeour's Minister, it's a possibility. I haven't heard anything official, but I know him. As soon as the full moon curfews were put in and werewolf hype starting appearing in the newspapers, I suspected that that might be the eventual goal. I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily."

Remus looked heartbroken, and Harry's chest felt tight. He reached across the table and clasped Remus’s hand, glad for the much easier companionship they'd resumed since he'd kissed the older man, though they'd yet to share anything more than just kissing. It had been the best move he'd made with his life in a long time, he thought.

"There's no way to stop it, is there?" Remus said.

Harry frowned. "Of course there is. We'll find one. I've been doing all that reading, remember?"

The knowledge that nothing in those werewolf books would help them was reflected in both their faces, but Remus didn't say so aloud, so Harry kept the thought to himself as well.

It was a nice illusion to cling to, anyway.

* * * * *

"So where are we going?" Harry asked.

"You'll see," Remus replied. It was the third time Harry had asked that question in the last ten minutes, and Remus had given the same answer each time. Harry would see for himself in only a few minutes. He could surely wait that long.

When those few minutes were up, Remus said, "We're here."

They'd Apparated to a nearby forest and walked the rest of the way. Harry seemed very surprised to find himself at a shack more run down than even the home he shared with Remus.

"Your holiday home?" he joked.

"Come inside and look."

Harry followed Remus inside without questioning him again.

There were a lot of people crowded into the small structure, and Remus saw Harry's eyes widen when he saw them all lying around on the hard pallets on the floor that served as mattresses.

"And I thought our house was cramped," Harry breathed.

Most of the people in the room looked up with interest, but averted their eyes as soon as they saw Remus. As far as they were concerned, anyone Remus chose to bring there was safe, and thus not of their concern.

After Harry had had a proper look around, he turned to Remus.

"Is this a werewolf safe house?"

"Something like that."

Harry bit his lip. "We should leave."

Remus frowned slightly. "They won't hurt you. They're my pack, and you're with me."

"Remus..."

"I thought you, of all people, would be more tolerant."

Remus knew that his tone was probably unnecessarily bitter, but he couldn't bring himself to care in the face of Harry's frightened face.

"No, it's not that, it's –"

Harry never got to tell Remus why he thought they should leave, but the many Apparation pops that preceded Aurors rushing into the building gave Remus a clue as to what his explanation might have been. Remus turned shocked eyes to Harry and saw that he looked guilty and resigned.

"You didn't," Remus breathed.

"Remus…" Harry began once more, seemingly still struggling for the words to express himself.

But Remus was shoved onto the ground from behind and lost sight of Harry. His hands were bound magically behind his back. The Auror who held him then cast one of the nastier incapacitation hexes on him.

As Remus was guided out of the building into a nearby clearing with a mobilicorpus spell, his still-conscious mind could feel the pain of every intentional bump into the roof, walls and even the surrounding trees once they were outside that the Auror inflicted on him, regardless of the fact that his body could do nothing to fight against it. He felt glad in the moment before he was Side-Along Apparated that he couldn’t make Harry out in the crowd of Aurors and victims.

He had never felt more betrayed in his life, even when he'd learned of Nymphadora's part in the Ministry's scheme. Since he was sure that was written across his face for all to see, he was glad that Harry was not there to know it as well. He didn't think he could possibly stand seeing Harry's look of triumph if he did.

* * * * *

Harry sat in a low-security interviewing room while they questioned Remus elsewhere. He wondered whether they would resort to torture if Remus wouldn't tell them what they wanted to know. He wouldn't put it past them, but he somehow didn't think that would be an issue in this case. He'd seen the look of defeat and betrayal on Remus's face.

Every once in a while an Auror or other Ministry member, occasionally Scrimgeour himself, wandered past to check on him. Most of those whom he knew reasonably well looked on him with pity. He'd rather they looked as scornful as the rest, truth be told. He didn't want their false compassion.

When Remus was paraded past his cell with his five-Auror guard, the cluster of them paused for a moment. Remus glared at him with loathing, while one or two of the Aurors looked triumphant. Once they were gone, Harry buried his head in his hands.

Remus had told them everything after all.

"Bravo, Rufus," he muttered.

Scrimgeour wasn't there to hear him, but Harry imagined he would arrive as soon as the good news reached him.

Harry sighed and tried very hard not to let tears form in his eyes.

* * * * *

"You're letting me go?" Remus asked.

The Auror nodded and released him from his bindings with a flick of her wand. "Evidence that the gathering you were attending was not a rally or meeting to consider any activities that are against the law has arisen. We cannot hold you, nor do we particularly wish to."

"You don't?"

"Be thankful, Mr Lupin, and do not question. This day could have gone a lot worse for you."

That was certainly true. His capture could scarcely have gone better, actually, all things considered. He hadn't been tortured, as he'd expected to be. He wasn't being sentenced to Azkaban or even death. In fact, they hadn't even made him give away any of the secrets he'd expected them to want to know. They’d asked very few questions at all, in fact, and none of them had been to do with Remus’s pack or his covert efforts to campaign against the Ministry. He supposed they may have found them out from any of the other werewolves from his pack that they'd captured, but it still struck him as odd. His experience with Nymphadora had made it clear that the Ministry were aware he was a leader in the werewolf community, after all.

If he'd continued to be treated that way all along, he wouldn't have minded staying inside the Ministry for a few days rather than a few hours. He'd rather have had the whole thing well and truly blown over by the time he had to face the world.

He couldn't imagine what he would do if he had to see Harry in particular again now. He was certain he would have to, of course, because Harry's things were at his cottage and he'd have to collect him at some point. Unless, of course, Harry had already gone there and cleaned up, wanting to get Remus out of his life as soon as possible.

The thought hurt despite all that had happened. Remus felt a little angry with himself for that.

The first thing he saw as he entered the Ministry's atrium was Harry Potter's face. He couldn't believe his rotten luck. But then he spied another copy of Harry's Potter's angry and guarded expression. And yet another one after that. It took him a moment to realise that he was looking at what seemed like hundreds of Evening Prophet covers featuring a large picture of Harry looking unhappy at having his picture taken, which had been pinned up on every available surface, including one or two on the roof.

‘Potter Arrested for Conspiring Against the Ministry’ was the bold heading above the picture.

Remus frowned, but kept walking, determined to buy a newspaper only once he got out of the Ministry proper. Curious as he was, he didn't want to spend any more time inside that building than he absolutely had to, now that he was free of his cell and no one was trying to hold him there. Who knew whether the Ministry would try to change its mind and drag him back, after all? They weren't a very reliable body of witches and wizards anymore.

He Flooed to Diagon Alley and bought a paper from the piles of them Tom had sitting on the counter (which was an unusual occurrence generally, but not so much, Remus supposed, when the front page news was a scandal involving Harry Potter, of all people).

He flicked to the actual article on the next page, but before he could start reading, a man Remus didn't know clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Lupin!" the man exclaimed. "The man of the hour!"

Other people in the pub looked up at him wide-eyed, but none of them said a word.

The man, still touching Remus, swiped his blonde hair out of his face.

"I always knew that boy was going to use all that power of his for nefarious purposes," the man said, and Remus was certain he heard a few of the other witches and wizards mumble their agreement. "And you, the one to catch him at his game before he could ruin our world with his ways."

"I don't –" Remus began.

"Nonsense, man, you deserve all the praises I can give you. You're famous now! In the paper and everything!"

Remus turned away from the man and left him standing alone. He rushed off to the corner of the room and covered his face with the paper so no one else could interrupt him.

Skimming through the article was enough to get the gist of it, and was all that he could manage before the paper fell from his suddenly weak fingers.

Harry Potter had been charged with deliberately acting against the Ministry's interests by consorting with and aiding criminals and deliberately misleading the Minister of Magic himself, among other charges. The claims were based, supposedly, on the testimony of one Remus J. Lupin. But Remus hadn't known anything about this to testify regarding it. Harry had been acting with the Ministry, hadn't he?

But then Remus remembered the look on Harry's face before Remus was manhandled out of the shelter many of his pack used, and when he'd passed him inside the Ministry for that one moment. And he also remembered that what few questions the Aurors had asked of him had mostly all been strangely related to his time with Harry. And he'd answered them because he couldn't see a reason not to. He'd even ranted a little bit at times. He'd been angry, damn it, and being asked seemingly irrelevant questions hadn't helped matters at all.

Remus wasn't entirely certain what had happened during that day, but he was beginning to think he'd done something very stupid.

* * * * *

The trial was a joke, just as Harry had expected. They'd left him stewing for a grand total of two days while they organised it, and then the whole thing had lasted all of maybe three minutes. It had been all too obvious how much of a rush they were all in to see Harry out of their hair.

So that was how his trial for underage magic would have gone had Dumbledore not shown up just in time to save his hide, he thought to himself.

He might as well not have had a trial at all. At least then he wouldn't have been unnecessarily subjected to all those accusing stares. But then, the Ministry was all about the red tape. There was a procedure to be followed, after all, even if the procedure was a complete mockery.

As he left the courtroom with five Aurors surrounding him, Harry was assailed by hundreds of people at once. Most of them were reporters trying to get a quote from him. One asked if he wanted to kill Rufus Scrimgeour. If it wouldn't have gotten him lynched right there and then, never mind Azkaban, Harry would have loved to have replied in the affirmative.

But there were also Ministry officials, people who just plain wanted to gawk at him and one or two familiar faces.

Ginny looked at him blankly, as if she wasn't certain what to think of him, or how she felt about him having to go to Azkaban for the rest of his life. Molly Weasley, beside her, was in tears, though she didn't attempt to say anything to him. Harry thought she was more sad at the idea of losing another of her children, adopted or not, to the war than she was sad that he'd been convicted.

And there, amongst a few other less important faces he knew, was Remus.

"Harry!" Remus shouted. Harry could just make him out above the noise of the rest of the crowd. "I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

Harry had known that, of course. He'd realised long before they'd been caught by the Aurors – even before Remus had suddenly decided to share his secret werewolf pack hideaway with him, actually – what was going on, but Remus wasn't to know that. Not yet, at least.

The Aurors eventually guided him not-so-gently through the waves of people into the Atrium, from which they would be travelling straight to Azkaban via Floo. One of them even patted Harry reassuringly on the shoulder.

They knew better than most why Harry had been convicted, because they were all under similar suspicion, though Scrimgeour had targeted Harry specifically because of who he was.

In the end, that knowledge and sympathy worked against them. Harry really did hate to take advantage of what little feeling of comradery there seemed to be left in the wizarding world of late, but...

The Aurors weren't expecting Harry to release a blast of what felt like powerful accidental magic – but which the Ministry’s analysts of the fallout zone later decided wasn't actually all that accidental – that knocked the Aurors and everyone else in the general area dozens of feet away from Harry.

With all of the cries of warning and general panic, no one in the room heard what he said as Harry stepped into the Floo and was whirled away.

* * * * *

Among the cries of alarm, Remus gleaned that something had gone wrong. Moments after that, he heard the word ‘escape’ uttered.

He couldn't get out of there fast enough.

But when he Apparated to his cottage, Harry was not racing about gathering his things in preparation to go into hiding. He was nowhere to be seen. None of his things seemed to be any more out of place than usual, either.

Surely Harry knew as well as Remus that he would not be caught if he came here, for Scrimgeour and his Aurors were too caught up in themselves to realise that Remus was not truly angry at Harry. Harry must have known that as well. He'd heard what Remus had said at the Ministry, he was sure.

But then, Harry might not be feeling quite so charitable himself. Remus couldn't say he blamed him, really.

Regardless of the reason, though, the point was that Harry hadn't come home. Remus would never see him again. He'd never get to apologise for ruining Harry's life and wrongly accusing him of doing the same to Remus's.

Remus fell onto Harry's couch – now just Remus's couch once more, he supposed – dejectedly. He closed his burning eyes, fearing that they would soon start to water and show his hurt.

A loud pop sounded right beside him, and before Remus could even open his eyes in surprise he felt the odd squeezing feeling that came with Side-Along Apparition.

A split second later he found himself standing outside a looming building. He'd hoped to never have to visit Grimmauld Place again, but when he turned and saw Harry standing beside him, he wasn't as unhappy as he might have expected to be dragged inside the house to relative safety.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't –"

"I know," Harry cut him off.

"You know?"

"Yes. I know. Scrimgeour's been after a way to get rid of me for ages. When I wouldn't support him publicly, he decided I had to be made an example, and he made no real secret of it. As soon as he asked me to spy on you, I knew what was happening."

"You agreed to spy on me, though?" Remus asked. He really didn't quite understand what had happened in the last half a week, let alone those last few months as a whole.

"Yes," Harry admitted. "If I hadn't, Scrimgeour would have arrested me a lot sooner. But I never intended on telling him anything. They were tracking me, but they didn't put any listening charms on me, knowing they'd be too easy for me to detect. I couldn't end the tracing spell without the Minister asking questions, though. That's why I only ever asked you to tell me about things, rather than show me places. When you surprised me by taking me to your pack, I knew we were in trouble, because the Ministry knew exactly where we were. I couldn't get us out of there in time, though. You know the rest."

"I'm sorry," Remus said once more.

"Don't be," Harry replied. "One way or the other, the whole farce was going to end soon. Scrimgeour was getting beyond suspicious, and I was getting sick of lying to you. I'm just glad you found out the truth, rather than just the Ministry’s version of it."

"So am I," Remus said.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, surveying each other and seeming almost as though they were looking for weaknesses in the other. It became quickly obvious to Remus that they were looking for signs of a completely different kind when Harry suddenly leapt at him, and Remus found himself instinctually wrapping his arms around the younger man, practically devouring his lips with his own.

He moved to attack Harry's neck lightly with his teeth, only to soothe the sensitive skin with his tongue a moment later, using the moist tip to caress under Harry's ears until the younger man keened with desire for more.

Remus didn't have all that much experience with sex when it came down to it. It was a foregone result of being a reclusive werewolf whose personality was his only possible redeeming quality. And all of his experience had certainly been with women. Yet, even from their first kiss, touching Harry had never felt as awkward as he would have expected it to be. Or, at least, what he would have expected if he'd ever given a moment's thought before Harry first kissing him as to what it would be like to kiss a man on the lips, or the slightly-stubbled face, or that long stretch of pale neck with its Adam's apple protruding out prominently.

Remus supposed that it really wasn't all that different than it would be with a woman. Harry fisted his hair just the way Tonks had tended to when he found the erogenous area just under her ear with his tongue. He wondered if the reality of the situation would suddenly occur to him when they reached a stage wherein the difference suddenly became glaringly obvious.

He broke away for a moment, his thoughts interrupting the mood. "I'm old enough to be your father," he objected breathlessly. It was his token effort to make Harry see sense now rather than later, he supposed. And to forestall any sudden consciousness of his actions later on his own part as well, if he was being honest with himself. "I was your teacher."

"Shut up," Harry growled impatiently, pulling Remus back to him. "Now's really not the time to be noble."

Ha, thought Remus. Imagine that coming from Harry Potter, of all people.

But then all coherent thought died. Remus felt much better for it, actually.

He wasn't quite sure how his robes made it off, or how his trousers came to fall around his ankles with his underwear caught up in them. He was equally surprised to find his own fingers working Harry's shirt buttons undone. They were quickly batted away, however, and a quick Severing Charm from Harry's wand – and from where exactly that had appeared, Remus didn't know for sure – left the shirt hanging open, only just baring Harry's chest and stomach. Remus bent down partially in a way that hurt him a little – he was getting old, he decided, but he didn't have time to dwell upon the thought – and attached his mouth to Harry's right nipple in a manner reminiscent of their earlier attempts at limiting themselves to merely kissing.

They'd been missing out on so much.

Frantic fumbling around the area in front of his own chest was the only warning he had before an erection that was not his own sprung free to rub against the shirt that still covered most of his upper body.

For a moment Remus’s whole body froze up, anticipation reaching almost frightening levels.

He really wished he was more in control of this situation. Then again, he'd never really been the one in control. No one could ever quite reel in Harry Potter, as Ginny Weasley could attest. Remus wasn’t sure he wanted to. He liked that Harry was a bit untameable.

Then Harry was pulling him up to his full height, a good few inches taller than Harry. That moment of stunned motionlessness broken, Remus was struck with the desire for friction. He shuffled forward as well as he could with his trousers trapping his feet together. If he looked like an awkward sort of penguin (as he suspected he did), though, Harry didn't seem to notice, for his eyes were filling with a kind of expectant lust even before his back hit the wall.

Remus thrust their cocks together as well as he could manage in his desperation.

Harry groaned with the sensation, and Remus felt proud for a moment that he was obviously doing something right. And then Harry propelled his hand out to Remus's chest, pushing him away just enough so that their cocks no longer touched.

"Lube," he said simply.

Remus nodded. Lubricant. Right. He was certain he should have realised they would be needing that, considering what was clearly about to happen between them. Perhaps he would have thought of it had his head felt a little less hazy. It turned out that Harry could certainly distract him quite adequately when he set his mind to it.

It was the work of a few seconds for Remus to withdraw his wand from where he kept it up his long shirt sleeve and cast a summoning charm aimed at lubricant. Four bottles zoomed at him from different directions. One crashed into what was probably a Black family heirloom of some sort, while two of the others skidded to the floor uselessly once Remus had successfully snatched one bottle out of the air.

It disturbed him a little that the Blacks had so much lubricant lying about in their family home. It was, however, convenient, so he tried not to think too much about what Sirius or even his parents – _especially_ his parents – might have been doing in that house before he and Harry had ever come along.

Remus went still once more. The flask of lubricant had been uncorked in a moment, but now he held an open bottle in his hand with no sure idea of what exactly he was meant to do with it.

Well, he had some idea. There had been that time when Sirius had tried to show him a memory in his brand new Penseive and had accidentally pulled Remus into the wrong one. But there was a huge difference between seeing two men interlocked and writhing against each other and knowing how best to instigate such a scene.

Harry seemed at a loss himself for a moment.

"I think Seamus mentioned using fingers first," Harry said uncertainly.

That was more than Remus had ever wanted to know about Seamus Finnegan, his former student, in that one sentence.

Then again, he thought he should perhaps reconsider that thought, taking into account that he had another of his former students half-naked and looking at him with begging eyes.

"Right then," Remus said. He rather hoped that Seamus Finnegan knew more about this sort of thing than he had about Defence Against the Dark Arts at age thirteen.

Remus had only just managed to smear a liberal amount of the clear lubricating potion on his own cock, which was barely peeking out from underneath the bottom of his shirt, and thrust two coated fingers into Harry before Harry was pushing his hands away.

"That's fine," he gasped. "I just… I just want you to do it already."

"Harry…" he began. He may not have known much about this sort of thing, but even he could tell that his prick was much larger than just two fingers. Not to boast, or anything.

"Please," Harry countered almost desperately.

Well, what else could he do? He supposed he was as ready as he'd ever be as well. Weeks of dancing around this had left him wanting, as much he'd been immensely confused about precisely what it was that he wanted.

Harry drew Remus closer to him almost forcefully, but Remus moved willingly towards his body nonetheless. Immediately, Remus's body was aligned with Harry's in such a way that he wanted to just thrust up repeatedly and mindlessly lose himself in the friction. Harry, though, had other ideas. He put his hands on Remus shoulders and hoisted himself up a little so that he could wrap his legs high up on Remus's waist. Remus's hands came down to cup Harry's firm arse of their own accord, and Harry made an encouraging sound.

It was awkward and, he imagined, more than slightly painful on Harry's part when Remus lined his cock up and thrust in, despite the lack of preparation. Harry had begged for it, and Remus had been too desperate to think about how it must be Harry's first time being breached in such a way. It was hard to remember that Harry had never done this either. He somehow seemed more experienced, despite Remus's superior age.

As it was propelled up and down his skin in time with Harry's movements, Remus's shirt rubbed against his abdomen and caught slightly in the hair that was dusted across his chest and abdomen. Though it provided an unwanted barrier, neither could be bothered with taking the time to remove it, or even to think about it other than to momentarily curse its existence. It was much easier to push Harry's own shirt back off his shoulders and down his arms and then simply forget about Remus's clothing all together.

On the other hand, it provided quite a nice source of friction on his nipples, which Remus couldn't possibly fail to enjoy. He wondered if that was a sign of enjoying other men's company that he'd somehow missed in the past. He doubted it somehow, but he couldn't be sure.

In the end, it didn't take Remus very long to reach his climax. He may have been aging, but it had been months since he'd had any sort of sexual contact with another person more provocative than exploratory snogging. Even though it was hard to move with his clothing trapping his limbs, and even though his knees hit the wall almost painfully every time he thrust up into Harry, pushing him into the wall similarly hard, Remus gritted his teeth and came with a grunt in only a few minutes.

His knees felt suddenly weak, and he slumped to the floor with Harry still wound tightly around him, his penis slipping unwillingly from Harry's body as they fell to the floor. Remus reached up to where Harry was perched gracelessly on his lap. After a moment of groping about, he found Harry's cock, still erect despite everything. In fact, it only took a few strokes to get Harry off. Remus was unsurprised, for he was just out of his teenage years and hadn't had sex in almost as long as Remus. If anything, Remus was stunned he'd lasted as long as he had, despite the pain he must have been feeling.

When Harry slumped down, his face meeting Remus's shoulder and resting there for a time, Remus sighed in something close to contentment.

It hadn't been the best sex a man could ever have – not by a long shot. But it had certainly been the most important sex he’d had. They'd had half a year or more of foreplay, after all.

He could hardly wait for the encore. Or, hopefully, the many repeat performances.

It occurred to Remus finally that Harry might not be able to stay with him for long. He was being hunted, after all, by those who knew him quite well. They would eventually find a way to get into the old Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. Harry wouldn't be stupid enough to stay around for that.

That would take time though, Remus decided, and time was what he sorely needed on his side right then. He needed more of what he'd just sampled. A lot more of it.

They'd deal with any notions of parting when the time came. Until then, Remus was determined to just lie back and enjoy what was happening to him without questioning it for possibly the first time in his life thus far.

* * * * *

While the enormous relief of finally having Remus thrust into him had made for powerful sex earlier, Harry found that he quite preferred their second time. They'd found time to remove all their clothes and locate a reasonably comfortable bed, for a start, and were able to take it slower, having taken the edge off the first time.

Harry liked the noises Remus made when he slid down the bed and nipped his hipbone with blunt teeth, followed by a quick lick to Remus's cock. He liked it even more when Remus had wrapped a hand in his already messy hair and let out a long, low keen as a result of Harry taking Remus into his mouth as far as he could and then moving the penis in and out in an imitation of what Ginny had done for him, back when they were both still interested in pursuing such activities with each other.

He swirled his tongue just so around the head of Remus's cock and was delighted with the reward of a choked cry that melted into quiet begging.

Still, none of that compared to the way Remus bucked up and yelped when Harry's mouth left his cock and drifted a little further down. His tongue skimmed over the older man's perineum to find its target, running up the length of Remus’s crack with a gently applied pressure. His dorm mates had told him all about 'rimming' back in his early Hogwarts days, and while he'd been more than just slightly disturbed at the idea back then, he found that once puberty had properly kicked in and his time with Ginny had allowed him to experience oral sex of one kind, the disgust had soon turned to curiosity.

He decided he might learn to quite like doing that if Remus kept up those pleading noises that seemed to rise from deep in his throat without his meaning them to. Harry flicked his tongue a little deeper and Remus thrust downwards toward his face, causing Harry to withdraw.

Remus took that opportunity to pull Harry up. While he didn't kiss Harry on the mouth – neither of them were quite ready for that straight after what they'd just been doing, Harry thought with a small grimace – he did take liberties with Harry's jaw line, his neck and even under one of his arms.

As that tongue laved over sensitive skin, Harry was made to squirm more than once, and he made his own pleading noises after a short time.

He'd thought that he would get a turn at topping after he'd prepared Remus so well with his tongue, but when Remus found the bottle of lubricant once more and began preparing Harry much more thoroughly than the first time, Harry didn't exactly object.

Two lubricated fingers twisted and scissored experimentally inside him. Harry encouraged Remus verbally, both with words and with beseeching noises that he didn't think he'd actually been meaning to make.

Two fingers became three, and Harry somehow felt fuller than he had with Remus's prick inside him not too long ago. Perhaps that was because this time he had enough wherewithal to actually feel all of what was being done to him. And _boy_ could he feel it, residual pain from earlier and all.

Though if Remus kept putting those fingers – which were somehow talented, Harry thought, despite their lack of experience in performing this particular act – to good use, Harry might not care so much about the pain for much longer.

Ah, that must be the prostate, Harry decided with a moan as Remus's fingers hit something that made him tingle in a very good way. Seamus had described that to them all as well, in even more detail than many of the other things he insisted on telling them about his sex life. Harry decided he'd been one hundred percent correct about how great it felt.

As Remus entered him a second time, with him on his hands and knees and Remus thrusting in from behind him this time, Harry decided that this was another activity he could definitely enjoy, given a little practice.

It was a real pity that they might not have time to get in anything like as much 'practice' as Harry would like.

Harry cried out in his orgasm, this time with Remus still inside him and his own hand clenched around his cock while the other hand steadied himself. He decided that this moment might just be enough.

It might have to be.

* * * * *

When Remus woke to find that sunlight was streaming through the room, he was initially confused. It had only just fallen dark as he'd settled into the bed with Harry.

Then he saw the note on the pillow beside him and thought he might have an idea about how he'd slept so long, why he still felt so groggy despite that, and how he'd apparently slept through Harry's departure even though he must have made a decent amount of noise as he retreated.

Harry had needed a head start, and he hadn't wanted Remus to wake up while he was making his getaway.

Remus felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice directly in his face. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to feel actual anger towards Harry. He wasn't feeling all that impressed with himself, though.

He didn't know what he'd expected. Certainly he hadn't ever entertained thoughts of himself and Harry settling down at Grimmauld Place, one of the few places in which Harry would likely be able to make himself safe from the Ministry for even a short amount of time, and living happily ever after. The Black house was a death-trap, after all, and Remus would be only too glad to get out of there again now.

But he hadn't thought that Harry would leave only hours after he'd Apparated Remus away to their temporary hiding place. He'd thought Harry would wait a few days until the manhunt for him began to die down a little. At the very least, he'd expected Harry to say goodbye in person rather than on a folded up piece of parchment that Remus would find when he woke up from his spell-induced sleep.

Whether or not Remus’s expectations had been realistic, they all amounted to the simple fact that Remus hadn't wanted it to end so soon.

Even apart from the way he missed Harry's presence a little already, Remus didn't want to have to return to his life, where there would be consequences of the fallout between his pack and the Ministry. Undoubtedly some members of his pack would have been charged with past crimes, or even false offences that the Ministry had conjured up in an attempt to lock them up or subject them to the merciless advances of those few Dementors left after the war.

And as he'd mentioned to Harry during their many discussions regarding the new werewolf laws, things would only escalate. Remus would find himself back inside the Ministry of Magic being questioned once more in no time at all, he suspected. This time there would be no reprieve for him.

He didn't like to think such hopeless thoughts, but he felt he had to be realistic.

Remus smiled grimly and reached for the parchment, blinking the sleepiness out of his eyes as he rolled over and unfolded it. While he was on a sad note, he might as well get Harry's goodbye out of the road.

But when he read the short note, he found no mention of any ‘goodbye’ anywhere. Instead, it read:

 _You always worry too much. Don't. When the time comes, I'll show Rufus Scrimgeour the full extent of that magic he's been so afraid of. The Ministry will be exposed for what it is and you and your pack will be safe. I promise you that._

Remus's smile became a little more genuine. He didn't even allow his smile to flicker – at first, at least – when he read the postscript written on another fold of the parchment.

Things might get worse, but even a nebulous promise that they'd get better again was enough to allow Remus the hope he needed to keep fighting.

Though he'd slept enough the night before to tide him over for a while, his eyes still fell closed, for he felt as close to content as he could remember feeling in a long time, thinking of that last part of the letter.

 _P.S. Right now, I bet you’re regretting last night a bit because of what’s happened now. Stop that. I want to add to those memories some day, and it’d be nice if I didn’t have to convince you all over again. We still have to figure out how to do that whole ‘middle ground’ thing, remember?_

Finally, he let his smile flash into an all-out grin. Remus could hardly wait.

~FIN~


End file.
